


Mad Love

by TheGrandRomantic



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (2012-2013), The Joker Blogs (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrandRomantic/pseuds/TheGrandRomantic
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.It should never have started in the first place. But, fate takes what you think is yours, what you have gave everything for, and turns it on it’s head.No, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.This game that we played. The fire we danced in. Neither of us had expected to get burned. It was a tug of war- who could push the other into the inferno and walk out unscathed. But no one won. No, we were both became incased in the flames, never to be free of each other.It was a wicked game, a deadly game, a game made for two.We consumed each other.It wasn’t supposed to end like this.But I wouldn’t change it for the world.





	Mad Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I write when I'm feeling uninspired by everything else. It's a new type of relationship for me to write so let me know what you think! (It was heavily inspired by The Joker Blogs like I can't even pretend that it's not)

It was cold that morning, that’s the first thing I remember. It was the first cold day of October. I pulled my hood up and tightened my scarf around my neck- _a warm noose_ , I thought absently.

 

My shoes clicked against the dirty pavement of Gotham city. The only place that could get even filthier after a rainstorm. The air was crisp and smelled faintly of gasoline, which wasn’t unpleasant to my senses. I always secretly liked the smell. It’s one of the reasons I liked living in this disgusting city. The filth felt like a living entity. A dangerous place even in the gaudiest of areas.

 

And it was dangerous.

 

The buses were running behind today- 10 minutes late. I sighed and my breath became a white mist. The commute to my place of employment was ridiculous and many people wrinkled their noses at me when they heard where my small (and fairly overpriced) apartment was located. But I didn’t care. The feel of this city was worth it. Insane people do insane things.

 

Or in my case, the person who studies insanity often becomes insane themselves. Or something like that.

 

_God, I really have lost my humor over the last year, haven’t I?_ I think, adjusting my keys in between my fingers like hawk talons.

 

It was never like this in Midway City. It was quiet there. Deafeningly so. Vigilante justice was given out by winged do-gooders, and I freely ignored the loom of an all-too unthreatening threat. The Shadow Thief was the least of my worries at Midway College.

 

The professors were far more terrifying. Every step of the way it was “Did you steal that idea?” “There’s no way you could know that.” “Don’t be radical, just do what we ask.”

 

_How dare a woman be intelligent and blonde_.

 

Finally, after tapping my fingers on the dirty railing of the bus for 30 minutes, it finally stopped on the outskirts of the city. _Just a two-minute walk from here_.

 

Jogging in my heels, the familiar black gates and letters greeted me, spelling out: ASYLUM in threatening letters. Funny how many people forget it’s full name is Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

 

_The asylum was named after a woman, and they won’t even let a woman handle a patient by herself_ , I ruefully pushed that thought out of my mind. That kind of negativity was not the way to start my day. It may have been true, but the more I tread on things, the more upset I become. And when I’m upset I become irrational. And being irrational, even for a moment, would give them enough ammunition to expel me from their asylum. And I would not give them the satisfaction. Not today.

 

I pulled out my ID card. It was a matter of formalities, really. Joe and I had been working together for over a year now, so he barely had to screen me as I entered anymore. Our greetings almost becoming a food service script.

 

“Morning, Harley,” Joe said, “Do anything exciting this weekend?”

 

_Welcome to McDonalds, what can I get started for you?_

 

“Same as I always do, Joe,” I said, “Looking over case files and filling out paper work.”

 

“That’s too bad. A pretty girl like you should be out on the town!” he smiled, knowingly. “You know, my step-son is still single…”

 

_Would you like to supersize that?_

“I know,” I said dryly. He just shrugged.

 

“Need any special clearances today?” he asked.

 

_Would you like fries with that?_

I let out a breath. “Not that I’m aware of.”

 

“Need an escort inside? They’re transporting new crazies in today, it might be good to have some extra protection,” he said, scanning my card.

_Cash or credit?_

“I can handle myself,” I said softly.

 

“Alright, just thought I’d ask,” he sighed and handed me back my card.

_We’ll have your total at the window. Have a nice day._

 

“Thanks, Joe.”

 

The gates opened with a grating _creak_ as I was allowed inside. Insane people do insane things. Most people tell me it takes someone crazy to walk through the gates of Arkham. I just tell them that we’re all a little crazy, aren’t we?

 

_Click_ and _Crunch_ fought to overpower each other as my high heels hit dry, autumn leaves. It was quiet today- quieter than usual. Tense. Waiting. Anticipating something on the horizon. Something just out of reach.

 

The silence was ended quickly as I found my way inside to absolute chaos.

 

Doctors, security guards, nurses, all of them were wandering around looking stressed as hell. They looked like leaves being blown into uproar by a leaf-blower. _Click_ and _Crunch_. And in the middle of it all stood the man at the head- Jeremiah Arkham, nephew of Amadeus Arkham, the last living heir to this god-forsaken establishment.

 

“Quinzel!” he cried, finding his way to me.

 

“Good morning to you too, Jer,”

 

He scoffed, “I don’t have time for this. Come with me.”

 

He grabbed my wrist and dragged me along. Jeremiah and I had become close over this last year. He knew as well as I did that I was the only trustworthy employee in this hellhole. The only doctor who would treat their patients humanely. It was a pathetic truth, but a truth nevertheless.

 

He drew me into his office quickly, avoiding the eyes of as many as possible, locking the door behind him. Something was off. Jeremiah was always one for curtness, but this was almost…violent. Chaotic. I’d never seen him like this. He was acting like prey that just realized it was prey.

 

He let out a breath when they were securely inside.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

He turned around and took my shoulders in his big hands.

 

“He’s here.”

 

I froze.

 

“Who?”

 

He suddenly went to his desk and grabbed something off it, shoving it into my hands. I looked down and realized quickly it was a playing card. A face card. I examined it closer and gasped.

 

“The _Joker_?” My head jerked up. “In Arkham Asylum?”

 

Jeremiah was pacing and rubbing his hands over his face.

 

“They sent us Gotham’s favorite _anarchist_?” My voice was rising in pitch. “But he’s not crazy! He should be in Belle Reve or-or-or The Slab or Stryker’s or _anywhere_ but here! We’re not prepared for this, Jer- we’re not prepared for him!”

 

“ _I know_!” Jeremiah growled, turning back to me.

 

“He belongs in a prison, not in the loony bin!”

 

“Not according to Gotham. The government marked him as Criminally Insane.” He spat.

 

“We’re not prepared to handle this,” I said quickly. “We can’t treat someone who isn’t sick.”

 

“You’re right. We’re not prepared to handle this,” he turned back towards me, “That’s exactly why I need you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I _mean_ ,” he started, softer, “That we need to treat him like every other patient in here. Get him rehabilitated. That means psychiatric sessions, monitoring, all of it. If he’s under _our_ roof, he’s under _our_ rules. We’ll break this act of is and force him to assimilate back into society. This is my family’s asylum. He’s doesn’t get to make it his floorshow.”

 

(If it were under any other context, my heart would have leaped at the repeated use of _we_ and _our_ )

 

I paused. “So where do I come in to all this?”

 

“You, Doctor Harleen Quinzel,” he said and approached me. “Are the only person I can trust…”

 

“Yeah, I know that, what are you getting at?”

 

He sighed.

 

“I always appreciated your candor Quinzel, but I don’t want to spring this on you.”

 

“Spring _what_?”

 

“I’m making you the Joker’s primary doctor.” He said quickly.

 

My heart stopped.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“This is why I didn’t want to spring it on you,” he breathed.

 

“But, I _can’t_ …”

 

“No, don’t you get it? You’re the only one who can,” he starts. “You’re the only one smart enough to see through this guy. You’re the only one willing to do something outside of a textbook. You’re the only one who could break him.”

 

“Even if that is true, it’ll never happen,” I said with mild bitterness. “The board would never approve that, they’ve never approved for me handling a patient since I’ve started working here.”

 

“They’re going to have to get used to it,” he said, his dark eyes shinning dangerously. “I’m using my trump card.”

 

“Trump card?”

 

“There’s a clause that states I have the final say on any motion made by the board because I am a blood relative of Amadeus Arkham,” he started.

 

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” I snapped, suddenly angry. “You’ve let the board walk all over you for years. Why haven’t you used this before?”

 

His jaw clenched.

 

“Because there is also a clause that the board could vote me out if I’m no longer fit to run the asylum.”

 

“And they dislike your leadership as it is. They could easily vote you out.”

 

He nodded.

 

“Pulling the Blood Clause too many times could be seen as tyrannical. The only other time I’ve used it was when my uncle lost his mind and I stepped forward as director,” he looked me dead in the eye. “I’ve been waiting for something as important as this to use it on.”

 

“Jeremiah,” I paused. “Are you really willing to take this chance on me?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“When do you speak with them?” I asked.

 

“I already have.”

 

“ _What_!”

 

He turned around and put his hands in his pockets. “I knew you would want to take this opportunity. I figured I could save us both some time.”

 

“You didn’t even ask me!” My eyes were wide.

 

“Like I said, I knew you’d say yes.” He walked towards me again. “This is your chance to prove everyone wrong, Harley. I know you can do this.”

 

“I’m not ready to forgive you for this.”

 

“I know.” He breathed. “But, I know you’ll do it anyway.”

 

“When do I start?”

 

“What time is it?”

 

I checked my watch, “Nine thirty.”

 

“Then you have a half hour. You’re first session is at 10.”

 

“No _way_ -“

 

“What did Dr. Crane always say about you?” he cut me off. “You’re biggest strength was always your instinct. Don’t think so much. You know the Joker’s profile better than anyone else.”

 

That much was true. I had pored over his file as soon as the police arrested him. He was fascinating to me. The exact opposite of anything you would ever expect. Someone constantly proving others wrong. Unpredictable. Wild. Fascinating.

 

“Oh,” he started. “You’ll need this.”

 

He walked over to his coat rack and grabbed the white lab coat that every doctor used. I never was given one.

 

I took it in my hands. It would be a bit long on me as Jeremiah was significantly taller, but the heels would help. I ran my fingers over the embroidery.

 

“It has your name on it,” I observed.

 

“Yeah, well it’s the best I can do in so little time. We’ll get you your own as soon as we can,” he said.

 

I put it on.

 

It felt oddly intimate, this whole situation. Locked in his office, him using his trump card for me, the amount of trust he showed. And now I was wearing _his_ coat. I felt uncomfortable. Like the air had been sucked out of the room. It was too safe suddenly. I needed to get out of there.

 

I cleared my throat. “I better go.”

 

He nodded, and I hastily approached the door.

 

“Harley?”

 

My hand was on the doorknob.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re going to do great.”

 

I didn’t say anything as I unlocked the door and entered the fluorescent chaos outside.


End file.
